


Valentine's Day

by Katybug1992



Category: Newsies - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 08:29:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17863898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katybug1992/pseuds/Katybug1992
Summary: Spot wanted to surprise Racer by cooking dinner for them.  It doesn't work out how he thought it would, but all that matters is that Racer sitting across from him.





	Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous user on Tumblr asked about me doing a Valentine's Day fic. It took a bit a time but I'm happy with the result.

Spot frantically rushed around the kitchen, cursing under his breath, trying to get the smoke detector to stop screaming at him. When waving the smoke away from it didn’t work, he settled for punching it, sighing in relief when the screaming stopped. However, the relief was short-lived when he took in the utter disaster that was his kitchen. The sauce was brown, the chicken resembled coal in both look and feel, the pasta had burned, and he melted probably two of the three spatulas he owned. Cleaning it all up, he formed his Plan B.

It had started as a good idea. Racer made dinner for them at least three times a week. He worked all day at the dance studio, on top of the hours he spent on continuing to perfect his art. And, no matter how sore he was at the end of the end of the day, he could pull himself onto the crowded train into Brooklyn and then run the several blocks from the Subway stop to Spot’s Brooklyn penthouse. He would send a car, but it would probably take the same amount of time. Spot always insisted that they could order in or go out, but Racer always insisted that he cook a couple times a week, that he didn’t want Spot dropping forty dollars a dinner multiple times a week.

The couple met in college. Racer was there studying business on a full-ride and spending all of his free time working in the library to send money back home. His mother had two other kids to put through college and he was determined to do what he could to help her. When his father walked out on them, his mother took up another job to support the family. When Race tried to quit dance, to cut down on the expenses, she had told him that he had too much talent to throw it all away. As soon as he was old enough, he got offered the chance to teach the beginners classes. He worked his ass off to get into NYU on a full-ride so that his mom didn’t have to worry about it, about him. 

Spot, on the other hand, was raised by his uncle to take over the family business. His business major was more of a formality, just like college itself. His uncle had been training him since he was five on taking over Conlon, Inc, one of the biggest global real estate business run out of Brooklyn. He went to the best schools in the city and easily got into NYU, part of him suspects the ease was due to his family name being on the library. He casually walked into his first course of the first semester and sat down next to Racer, shooting him a flirty smirk after giving him a once over and chuckled to himself after Race glared at him before turned to the redhead sitting on his other side.

It took several weeks of subtle and not so subtle flirting, only a couple of days to know that his name was not going to impress the blonde, for Spot to convince him to go on a date with him. Spot wasn’t used to people being unimpressed by him, unafraid of him. But Racer was different. He took none of Spot’s shit, he was difficult and smart, with a cutting wit and smirk to match. Race had told him that dinner needed to be twenty dollars tops, with no use of the family name. The day of their first date was the day that Spot first saw him dance. He had been running along the indoor track when he spotted the blonde in one of the studios lining the track, and had almost caused a pile up when he stopped short, mesmerized by him. 

Spot had picked him up from his dorm room, meeting his roommates - Albert, Jack, and a kid who went by Crutchie - and they walked down the street to a small pizzeria. Over a couple of slices they got to know each other. Race talked about his mother, about how he sent her as much money as he could while saving up to buy a dance studio after graduating. Apparently, he and Albert had been friends and in dance together since they were young, it was their joint dream. Spot talked about his uncle and the expectations that were placed on him from a young age, about how his uncle took him in after his parents had died when he was a baby. He walked Racer back to his dorm room and smiled like an idiot when the blonde kissed his cheek before going inside.

By the time graduation rolled around, Race and Albert had found the space they wanted and had saved up enough for the down payment between them. It took a lot of convincing (and going behind Racer’s back to get Albert in on it) but Spot had gotten Race to let him invest in the business, which he used as an excuse to have the place outfitted with everything a state of the art dance studio needed while they were in London, attending an event for Conlon Inc, with apartments above for Racer and Albert. Race was only mad at them for five minutes, until he found out that his friends and family had done most of the assembly work.

Two years later, the studio had taken off and Spot was the most feared and respected real estate CEO in the city….who couldn’t even cook a simple chicken pasta for his boyfriend for Valentine’s Day without coming close to burning down his kitchen. Glancing at the clock, he noticed that Race would be halfway to Spot’s subway stop by now and picked up his phone. Placing a quick order, he grabbed his wallet and keys and headed towards the elevator, thanking God that the little Italian place on the corner was fast. Also, they knew him pretty well. He and Race came often, usually on Sundays, to pick up some treats from the bakery or dinner. He usually had to drag Race out of the building because he and the owners would have conversations in Italian that could definitely go on too long. He had picked up some of the language but once they got going, he was completely lost….and half the time Spot got the feeling that they were making fun of him. 

The order was ready when he got there, he had a feeling they had it ready when he placed the call. He had mentioned to Maria that he wanted to surprise Racer by making dinner to celebrate Valentine’s Day and she seemed skeptical, which further cemented his suspicion that they talked about him, and told him to give her a call if he needed help. He hadn’t appreciated the comment at the time but was exceedingly grateful as he called out, “Grazie!” as he ran back out into the cold. Looking down the sidewalk, he could just make out Racer’s figure. It would figure that the one day Spot needed the MTA to have delays is the one day the train was ahead of schedule. Tearing inside, he jabbed the up button repeatedly and then the close door button as soon as he was inside, turning his key to take him to the Penthouse, no stops.

Once back in his place, he plated up the food and set the table. He had just lit the last candle when the elevator dinged open.

“Hey!” Spot greeted, breathless from scrambling around, “Train was early!”

“Yeah,” Racer laughed at the sight of his boyfriend, “it was a Valentine’s miracle.”

“I got dinner!” Spot grinned, directing Racer over after the boy removed his winter gear.

“Leo ratted you out.” Race laughed, taking the seat Spot had pulled out for him after kissing his boyfriend sweetly.

“Well, my stove has never liked me.” Spot shrugged, taking his seat and pouring them both a glass of wine.

“I don’t think the stove is the problem.” Racer replied with a smirk, his eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Well, some of us aren’t gifted in the culinary arts.” Spot maturely stuck his tongue out before taking a sip of his wine.

Racer just laughed and took a bite of his pasta.

Dinner passed in a steady stream of conversation, catching each other up on their days. Apparently, Jack had swung by the studio and gotten showed up by the nine-year old advanced class, which Race did catch on camera and promised Spot he would show him later. Spot watched his boyfriend talk, the candlelight dancing across his face and it hit him like a bolt of lightening just how much he loved this boy.

“Move in with me.”

The words came out of his mouth before Spot knew what was happening. It was something they never really talked about...avoided talking about really. 

“What?” Racer paused, mid-tale of his and Albert’s lunch excursion, apparently Somali food didn’t mix well with the red head.

“Tony,” Spot took his hand, “we’ve been together seven years. We lived together in college, we know we already know that we can tolerate each other as roommates. Half your stuff is here anyway.”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that for two years, Sean.” Racer grinned back, tightening his hold on Spot’s hand briefly.

“I wanted to ask you after graduation, but I didn’t want you to feel like you had to...like I was trying to clip your wings and keep you close to me.” Spot replied.

“You could never clip my wings, Sean.” Racer’s heart swelled, “You have been my biggest fan for most of the time that we’ve known each other.”

“So, is that a yes?” Spot asked hopefully, eyes shining.

“Yes.” Racer nodded, grinning widely as Spot stood up and walked over, pulling him into a searing kiss.

“I’ll get a truck for this weekend.” Spot replied, pulling Racer up from his seat, “I love you.”

“With my whole heart.” Racer responded, kissing Spot chastely.

They weren’t the perfect couple, not by a long shot. But they were them and that was enough.


End file.
